


we used to be friends (a long time ago)

by DemiC



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, mentions of minor character death, rated M for Felicity's potty mouth and Oliver's propensity for smut, veronica mars AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiC/pseuds/DemiC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen hates Felicity Smoak’s guts.  The feeling is mutual really.  Fine, yes, just a few hours ago, he kissed the living daylights out of her which would have made her toes curl if her blood hadn’t stopped circulating.  But that’s an anomaly.  An outlier.  A bug in the code.  Doesn’t change the undeniable fact that he can’t stand her.  Fair is fair.  His family and hers are possibly worse than Montagues and Capulets.  Which makes them…oh hell no.  He probably hasn’t even studied Shakespeare in any of the English classes he got kicked out of.  There’s no epic story here.  Just the ruined lives and the shed blood.  It’s not unwarranted since her surrogate father accused his actual father of cold-blooded murder.  Of Felicity’s best friend.  And Oliver’s girlfriend.  Well, ex.  So given all that, how does a certified genius end up on her knees in the mud hiding behind some bushes with the self-proclaimed misunderstood villain of the story close enough that his breath makes her skin tingle which is nice but so not the point?</p>
            </blockquote>





	we used to be friends (a long time ago)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the Veronica Mars AU no one asked for but I couldn't help but write. Bonus points to those who spot the odes to the brilliant words of Rob Thomas, Lin-Manuel Miranda and Michael Patrick King. Here’s hoping you don’t hate me for ruining your favourite show or musical or giving you vertigo with all the plot bunnies and time jumps.

**February 29th 9:47pm, behind some bushes across the parking lot of Camelot Motel**

“I’m never getting married.”

Felicity grabs the balaclava with her free hand, pulls the offending piece of lint-trap up over her head, blows out a breath and tucks a few loose hairs back into her ponytail.

“I gotta remember to buy the one with a hole for over-active mouths. Or, you know, stop talking while wearing one. Or stop talking to myself in general. Especially on a stakeout.”

In her defense, she’s somewhat new to this stakeout thing.Felicity’s always been able to get whatever she needs dancing with ones and zeroes that she rarely needs to show up in person.Except tonight.Camelot Motel, which her current prey has chosen for his surely seedy rendezvous, is so off the grid that even she couldn’t find any digital footprint that would have kept her snuggled up in bed hugging a pint of mint chocolate chip tonight.She can’t say Dig didn’t warn her.His actual words were: “Stay away from this case, F.M. Warshawski. I’ll handle it.”But even he must have known she wouldn’t listen.Probably better anyway.After today, that almost fried brain of hers needs the distraction. 

A few months shy of her 18th birthday, Felicity has already learned the hard way that sooner or later, people you love let you down. So this-run-of-the-mill cheating husband case du jour is just that…ordinary. Hence the never getting married. Felicity Smoak, spinster.Why then does her hand shake so much that she’s having trouble focusing the lens enough to click for the money shot? Oh that’s right. She’s currently waiting not for some bolding pot-belly hiding behind a ridiculous mid-life crisis lie throwing future alimony payments at some soft-porn star’s silhouette moving with the thrilling grace of a forklift.Her target could not be less ordinary. Or more late. 

“Smoak?” someone whispers from behind making her drop the heavy camera so fast the strap digs into her neck.

“Fuck!Jesus!Oliver?” It’s not easy to keep your voice down when you’re surprised and can’t properly move your neck, but she tries anyway. Tries being the operative word.“What the hell are you doing here?I see you still haven’t learned not to sneak up on people.” 

“On the contrary. Sneaking up on people is a Queen specialty. That’s how we get to the truth. What are _you_ doing here?”

“I asked first.” Felicity attempts to hide the camera behind her back but ends up pulling harshly on the strap around her already throbbing neck. “Ow.”

Oliver takes a step forward in concern “You OK?

“Stay right there.” She holds out her palm to stop him from getting any closer. Because, you know, him getting closer has recently become dangerous territory.“Are you following me?”

“Out for a walk” he shrugs. “I saw you.”

Now Felicity’s offended.She’s certainly not _that_ bad at this stakeout thing. “You did _not_ see me. Look at me. I’m covered head to toe in black.” She notices she’s still holding the balaclava in her hand.“Well I _was_ just a second ago. And I am clearly hiding behind the bushes. You did _not_ just see me. Unless you were looking for me.” She’s not sure but she may have even stomped her foot in there at some point.

“What can I say?” He smirks “my eyes are perfect.”

Yes. Yes they are, Felicity thinks. Perfect orbs of the deepest blue she’s ever seen.But she’s not about to stroke his ego. Not that it needs stroking. She’s generally not going to do any stroking. Not any more than she already has today. But that’s neither here nor there. 

“You can’t be here, Oliver.”

“Why?”

“Because…because I’m on the job and you just can’t be here.”

“Oh yes I can. I have every right to be here.”Felicity shushes Oliver when his voice starts to get louder but he doesn’t care. She is on a god damn stakeout for fuck’s sake.Doesn’t he get that?“Your job” he mocks her with air quotes “is my father.” 

Felicity’s eyes go wide in confusion. “How…” but he stops her mid-sentence “the right question is why.Why are you tailing my father? What gives _you_ the right?”

“Oliver…”

“That psycho’s still after my father, isn’t he?And you’re doing his dirty work.Are you setting him up for something? What the fuck are you doing here, Smoak?”

Seeing the red Porche she’s been waiting for speed around the corner straight towards them, Felicity rushes towards Oliver covering his mouth with her palm to shut him up.

Oliver’s muffled “answer me” gets ignored as Felicity grabs his hand, drags him down to his knees and crouches down next to him in the mud “Shhhh be quiet! He’s here.”

“Why should I?Why shouldn’t I go after him, huh?Why shouldn’t I just yell right now and warn him?Give me one good reason.”

Felicity watches as Robert Queen parks his car in the motel’s almost empty lot, looks around to see if he’s being followed, and when convinced he isn’t, albeit mistakenly, starts walking towards the stairs.She can feel Oliver’s eyes on her the whole time. Not to mention her palm now burns with the heat from his hand. Which she’s still holding by the way. When the hell did she grab it?And why can’t she let it go?She takes a deep breath and turns her face to meet the fury in his eyes.

She barely whispers. “Because I’m asking you to.”

Oliver Queen hates Felicity Smoak’s guts. The feeling is mutual really.Fine, yes, just a few hours ago, he kissed the living daylights out of her which would have made her toes curl if her blood hadn’t stopped circulating.But that’s an anomaly. An outlier. A bug in the code. Doesn’t change the undeniable fact that he can’t stand her. Fair is fair.His family and hers are possibly worse than Montagues and Capulets.Which makes them…oh hell no. He probably hasn’t even studied Shakespeare in any of the English classes he got kicked out of. There’s no epic story here. Just the ruined lives and the shed blood. It’s not unwarranted since her surrogate father accused his actual father of cold-blooded murder.Of Felicity’s best friend. And Oliver’s girlfriend. Well, ex. So given all that, how does a certified genius end up on her knees in the mud hiding behind some bushes with the self-proclaimed misunderstood villain of the story close enough that his breath makes her skin tingle which is nice but so not the point?

To answer that, we’ll have to rewind back to this morning.

 

**February 29th 08:27am, in the middle of Merlyn Highway 13 miles away from Starling High**

It’s just not Felicity’s day. 

She was up until 3am waiting for Dig to come home since he went incommunicado in pursuit of yet another bail jumper.Late night TV is filled with crappy reruns and home shopping infomercials so she hacked the next door neighbour’s Netflix, again, to catch up on House of Cards.Yeah, yeah, she’ll bake her a cupcake to say thanks or something. It’s not like said neighbour doesn’t show up half-naked with permanent Dig-shaped moon-eyes complaining of plumbing problems asking to borrow their shower. First, ew. Second, Felicity’s not blind.Dig’s a catch.And her mom’s an idiot.Amongst other things.But that’s a story for another time.Felicity also suspects, no, _knows_ , Dig’s intentionally not dating.For her benefit.She really does love him for it but it’s unnecessary.But hey, if it stops these bimbos from hurting him, she won’t object.Bottomline is temporary use of Netflix password for potentially sexy shower time sounds like a fair exchange.She may even say the neighbour gets the better end of the deal the way she keeps swaying her ass in that itty bitty towel of hers.She should bake Felicity a cupcake.

“You need me to…uh, help, sweet buns?” 

Felicity stopped counting how many sleaze balls rolled down the window to whistle at her about 20 minutes ago.She’s currently forced-parked in the middle of the highway thanks to the steam coming out of what Google has suggested might be her radiator.She’s bent over under the hood of Coop - that’s her red Mini Cooper by the way - doing her best to ignore the symphony of angry honks and creepy catcalls.The latter is most likely due to these impossibly tiny jean shorts she’s wearing that leave a cringeworthy amount of her ass hanging out in her current bent-over position.Thank God Felicity’s got a nice ass.She was so worried about Dig yesterday that laundry day never materialized.And she was so relieved when he finally came home that she crashed so fast and so hard she overslept this morning.Hell, she didn’t even have time for her mandatory morning coffee yet.So yes, she’s wearing her freshman-year shorts.You know, the ones she used to love before her hips arrived overnight delivery.So what?Sue her.She’s had it with these morons.

“Yes, god!I do need you.” Felicity drops the hood down and pats it a few times suggestively.“Come on, I need you right here, right now. I mean, if you can really…. _help_ …me, we can even go to prom together!”

Morons don’t expect to be talked back to. This one is no exception.“Bitch!” he murmurs as he hits the gas pedal.

Felicity gives him her best fake sad face as she yells “Don’t leave me! What about prom?!?!”

“There’s always Tuxedo Mask.”

“What now?” as she slowly turns around to face her new fan, Felicity’s hand instinctively goes to the back right pocket of her shorts. She closes her eyes and sends a prayer to Marie Curie… _please let it be blank please._ Nope, there it is.Her Sailor Moon patch.She still remembers the day she had her mom stitch it on.Donna kept asking whether she was sure “you’re starting high school baby, not kindergarten” but Felicity just shrugged “is there an age limit on being a hero?” She mumbled the rest under her breath “or to have a crush on a fictional character in a mask?” If the small smile on Donna’s lips were any indication, her mom had heard her fine.Remembering anything positive about her mom is a rare feat these days so it’s a shame she opens her eyes before she gets a chance to smile at the memory.

It’s Oliver fucking Queen.Son of software billionaire Robert Queen. And an all around pain in Felicity’s nice ass. Yep, it’s official. It’s dump-on-Felicity day.Hip fucking hurray!Why though?Why of the 7 billion people in the world _he_ has to be here _today_ of all days?It was just yesterday she helped the elderly Mrs. Bertinelli carry her groceries.She even remembered to water Mr. Yamashiro’s bonsai trees.She’s a good person really.It’s not like she’s asking for a million dollars.Is it too much for the universe to throw her a fucking bone now and then?It is leap year after all.Must she do everything herself? She’s just gonna have to invent a proximity alarm, some microchip to embed under the douchebag’s skin.One that starts blaring the obligatory psychotic jackass anthem anytime he comes 100 feet of Felicity.She figures anything by Chris Brown would do. 

“Oops sorry Sailor” he mock salutes Felicity.“We all know how that ship went down, right Tuxedo?” he laughs turning to look at someone sitting in the passenger seat. “Kaboom!” 

“Cut it out Ollie!”

Tommy Merlyn.Best friend of the said jackass and fellow son of another billionaire. Even the highway she’s currently blocking is named after him.Well, after his father, Malcolm Merlyn.Some said he donated the millions to the city just so folks had something else to talk about than his latest scandal which Felicity can’t remember what so looks like throwing money at your problems works.Tommy Merlyn was also the self-appointed Tuxedo Mask to Felicity’s Sailor Moon. There was a time he’d tie a red ribbon around her wrist and whisper in her ear “ _imagine me wearing a white mask_.”Just to make her happy.And he used to.Make her happy that is.Very much.Until one day 14 months ago, with no warning and no explanation, he ended things.Now he never even looks Felicity in the eye. Right now is no exception.Fucking Oliver Queen doesn’t have that problem though. 

“You wanna lift? Tommy here will take his shirt off to sweeten the ride.”

“Leave her alone Ollie!” back of Tommy’s hand hits Oliver in the chest. 

“You used to be fun, Smoak” is Oliver’s parting gift before they speed away.

Fun.Felicity’s not even sure she remembers how to have any.It wasn’t always like this though. On especially rough nights, her mind takes her back to almost 2 years ago, her 16th birthday.She was leaning forward to blow out the candles on the chocolate cake her mother claimed she had baked from scratch. Felicity knew better. That piece of delicious looking sugar-high was symmetrical to begin with.Donna’s the worst cook in the county.Well, that’s not exactly accurate since she’s no longer in the county.Perhaps not even in the country. Even if she were, Felicity proudly wears the worst chef crown anyway.Not to mention she saw the empty box from Lawton’s Bakery on the counter before Dig winked at her as he took it out with the trash.It was the sentiment that counted.Dig had her arm around her mom’s shoulders and they were both looking at her like she was the greatest thing to walk the earth.So much pride.Dig still looks at her just like that.He can’t help the hint of sadness that creeps in sometimes though.So she smiled with her whole face at them.And there came her best friend Sara Lance with her version of the birthday chant.Yep, Sara didn’t sing.She chanted.And did this weird hula dance thing that looked more like the Macarena. The Lances had just gotten back from Hawaii and Sara swore she could hula with the best of them.One does not dare disagree with Sara. Sorry, one _did_ not. Oliver grabbed Sara’s unruly hips from behind, flashed his signature pearly whites and yelled over his girlfriend’s shoulder “Are we gonna have some cake or what Smoak?” Felicity watched the rainbow of candles burn but she couldn’t get herself to blow them out.She now knows it was what Dig calls stretching out the moment. As if she had known she would need the memory to sustain her some day.That’s when she felt Tommy’s breath on her neck. 

“What will you wish for Felicity?”

Goosebumps.

“Nothing. I have everything I need. Everything I want.”

“Everything?”

Her mom, her surrogate father, her best friend, and the boy she was crushing on.There was even chocolate involved.She nodded confidently “everything.”

“OK then.You blow, I blow.”

Felicity giggled “that sounds suspiciously like something I would say.” 

“You’re rubbing off on me.”Felicity giggled some more as Tommy smirked.

“Ready? 1, 2, 3…” he reached for her hand under the table.It would take him another week to ask her out but Felicity still felt like she was on top of the world the second Tommy’s palm wrapped around her small hand. 

There went the candles. 

“Thank God Smoak! I thought we’d never eat.”Yeah, there was Oliver too.Later that night, he even gave her the best birthday gift anyone has ever given her.Had to sneak into her bedroom, and, Felicity would swear on coffee beans, kidnapped her, to do it too.

Like Felicity said.She had everything.She really should have wished for it to remain just like that, forever. 

Now her mom’s gone. Sara’s gone. Tommy’s as good as gone. At least from her life. Oliver…well he hiked up the jerk factor to such overdrive that Felicity wishes he was gone.At least Dig’s still her hero. Not that she needs saving. She’s perfectly capable to taking care of herself and this god damn steaming radiator all by her independent-strong-woman-self.At the moment, all she needs is a tow truck.Where’s her phone anyway?

 

**February 29th 11:57am, riding shotgun in the tow truck parked across the street from Diggle Investigations**

**** “Thanks so much Eddie! Call me when Coop’s ready?”

Felicity smiles as he thanks the tow truck driver for dropping his usual schedule and running when she called.She had helped him out a couple of months ago when she hacked the sorry piece of swiss cheese BigTitsHD.com calls its firewall to find out that it was actually his horny teenage son Tony who stole his credit card. Diggle Investigations was paid for that 20 minutes of “miracle work we’ll all take to our graves” as Eddie called it, but Felicity does appreciate being shown gratitude in odd favours here and there.

“Anytime Felicity. Ah geez. Will you tell John to bring his car in?Need to fix that beat up front bumper. Tell him it’s on the house.”

Felicity follows Eddie’s line of sight to Diggle’s baby, a black 1967 Chevy Impala usually in pristine condition, but before she can figure out what Eddie means, she freezes at the sight of another car.She’d recognise that white Mercedes anywhere.She doesn’t even need to see the plate, Queen 2 _._ Queen 1 belongs to Robert Queen’s red Porche.This one is Moira Queen’s. Speak of the devil and she doth appear. In Felicity’s case, she doth come out of the last place anyone would ever look for her, Diggle’s office. Felicity watches from Eddie’s truck as the object of her current curiosity puts her ridiculously large sunglasses on and wraps her head in what’s probably a $1000 Hermes scarf. Felicity can swear she sees Moira bring her purse closer to her chest as if to clutch it safe but it only lasts a split second before she makes herself relax and take that signature I-own-everything-and-everyone Queen walk to her car. Well color her intrigued. Moira Queen and John Diggle haven’t been in the same room for 8 months and it wasn’t to catch up on idle gossip over cucumber sandwiches and lemonade then either. The then-sheriff Dig was interrogating Moira on the whereabouts of her husband on a night that’s pretty much on everyone’s to-be-erased list.Felicity knows, because she fell asleep listening to the recordings of said interrogation more nights than she cares to remember. Stolen police tapes are not exactly regular lullaby material.Rewind, stop, play isn’t exactly like counting sheep either. 

But Felicity had to know why.Why Dig was ruining his career on some tunnel vision sprint to arrest Robert Queen for Sara’s murder.Why “this vendetta” as Donna called it when they fought every night was breaking up the only functional almost-family Felicity had ever known.And why Dig was so hellbent on branding himself, and by association Donna and Felicity, the town pariahs. 

John Diggle doesn’t have a selfish, ill-intentioned bone in his body.Felicity knows if Dig goes after someone it’s with good reason. She trusts his judgment, his instincts, his gut.Felicity trusts Diggle, period. So she believed in him then too. But since he wasn’t forthcoming with his reasons, Felicity made it her mission to find out for herself. She didn’t get very far.

Felicity practically runs into the office. “Yo Dig? You here?”

“Felicity?Why aren’t you in school?”

She drops her bag on the receptionist’s desk, which is really her desk if you ask her and hops on it.“My car broke down.Eddie dropped me off. That reminds me I’m gonna need a note for Principal Waller.”

Dig cocks his head and raises his eyebrows. The first time Dig figured out Felicity has this fake-the-parents-signature thing nailed down was when he was fussing over not having filed the paperwork for the Dollmaker case on time and the D.A. had no idea what he was talking about. That was also when he and Donna decided Felicity should get a part-time job and not just hang out at the precinct after school.Her stint in the kitchen at Lawton’s Bakery lasted about 2 hours but she wasn’t as terrible waiting tables in the front.Felicity showed up with a box of cupcakes on the first day Dig opened his new office and picked up the phone “Diggle Investigations, who may we investigate for you?” She simply showed up every day after school.“You don’t want to be a dream crusher now Dig, do you?I promise I won’t burn down the place.There’s not even a hot plate here.”Dig never stood a chance against the infamous Smoak persistence. “You keep trying baby girl” Donna used to say. “Until you get what you want.” Did caved, but insisted it was temporary until he found a real receptionist. That was almost 5 months ago. He can’t even remember signing for anything since then. 

Felicity shrugs “Yeah OK.”She hops off the desk and opens the bottom section of the cupboard by the window. “Have you seen my emergency bag?I thought I left it here.”

“You have an emergency bag?Why do you have an emergency bag, Felicity?”

“You know, for emergencies. Relax Dig, it’s not like I keep a balaclava, a couple of shotguns, and some handcuffs in there.”

Those are clearly in Dig’s emergency bag. Felicity keeps a change of clothes, her backup iPad, multitude of chargers, her coconut facewash, contact solution, and a tube of _kiss me_ red lipstick.Oh and a box of tampons.It doesn’t get any more emergent than that. She’s after her yoga pants at the moment though.

“I am the worst guardian ever.”

Felicity can’t let Dig think that so she runs back towards him, goes up on her tippy toes and wraps her arms around his shoulders.Obviously her arms are too short or Dig’s shoulders are out of this world wide because stretch as she might her fingers never meet. 

“That’s where you’re wrong Mrs. Doubtfire” she whispers into his chest which vibrates as he chuckles.

As Dig goes to answer the ringing phone, Felicity remembers why she can’t find her emergency bag in the office.Goodbye yoga pants. These barely-there hot pants will have to do for the day.She had just dropped the missing bag in her trunk last night when she was _this_ close to driving around looking for Dig but he finally texted her “dont waiy up im food.” He later told her spelling hadn’t been a priority when he was crouched behind some sofa he turned over to shield himself from knives being thrown at his head by the, as he learned painfully, ex girlfriend of the bail jumper he was chasing. Never a dull moment at the Diggle Investigations.

“I gotta run.New lead on the jumper.” Dig puts his jacket on and grabs _his_ emergency bag.

“Really Dig? You’re just gonna go. Nothing else you wanna tell me?”

“Potato salad in the fridge, steaks in the freezer.We’ll eat tonight like the lower middle class family we aspire to be. I’ll grill when I’m back.Oh and stay in school.Well first go to school.” He’s halfway out the door.

“Are we really not gonna talk about what the ice queen was doing here?” And he stops in his track, sighs, and closes the door.

“Asking for directions” he sounds more like a would-you-believe-me question rather than an actual answer.Moira Queen wouldn’t get caught dead in the Glades and Felicity’s sure she’s already equipped that car with the most expensive GPS known to man or woman.

“Wanna play again?”

“Felicity…”

“Dig, she made your life, _our_ lives, miserable.”

Felicity suspects Moira Queen is behind Dig losing the sheriff’s office.His crusade against the Queens first put him on suspension, then emergency recall election replaced him as the sheriff with Quentin Lance, Sara’s grieving father who stood by the Queens the entire time.A dead daughter does get you the sympathy vote and two million dollars from Moira Queen surely buys you the rest. Yeah, Felicity’s scary good at following the money trail.

“What did she want?”

“The usual.To have someone followed.”

“Who?Wait, is he cheating again?”

“You know about…what am I saying?Of course you know.”

Felicity spent a lot of time in the Queen household over the 6 months she dated Tommy. In fact, Felicity and Tommy, and Oliver and Sara were inseparable. Summer between sophomore and junior year, the foursome pretty much camped out at the Queen’s pool.Tommy always said the Queen’s housekeeper Raisa made the best post-swim snacks. There was a particularly unforgettable Thanksgiving.Not exactly unforgettable for the turkey, though Raisa really did outdo herself with the stuffing, but this time it was Mr and Mrs Queen and “the fight of the century” as Oliver later called it.When Robert Queen showed up late to carve the turkey, Felicity thought the gorgeous dining room must have been transported to Antartica.The kids were excused but Oliver didn’t want to leave until Moira gave him a nod and a smile.There was no turning back when Oliver stole the keys to his father’s prized possession Porche on the way out. Except Felicity forgot her bag in the kitchen so she had to sneak back inside.Who knew mansion walls were paper thin?“Who is it this time Robert?Who are you fucking now?!!??” was met with “Get a grip Moira.”Felicity’s pretty sure the fancy china was thrown at some point. Heads may have been hit.There definitely was yelling.What she remembers most however, is Oliver’s face when she ran back outside towards the car. Tommy was fiddling with his phone, Sara was just staring out the window to nothing and Oliver…well Oliver just looked sad.She had never seen him sad before. He was always the life of the party. Some inappropriate comment here, a joke there, he’d flash that panty-dropper smile and get away with literally anything. He was just sitting there staring at the mansion with his hands grabbing the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles had turned white. Then Felicity jumped in, he shook his head, caught her eyes in the rear-view mirror and silently asked with those baby blues “are you OK?” When Felicity nodded, he gave her a small smile and it was like he had flipped a switch “let’s go find some pilgrims!” As the Porche skidded away everything was back to normal. It would be the last time Felicity was at the Queen Mansion though. Until the night of Sara’s murder that is.

“She just wants some basic recon.Watch and click. I’ll get to it tomorrow.”

Moira must have thought Dig would be diligent. And discreet. After all, if anyone wants to take down Robert Queen, it’s John Diggle.

Dig grabs his bag again and starts heading for the door. He stops mid-step and turns around with a warning finger wag “Stay away from this case, F.M. Warshawski. I’ll handle it.”

She should have listened to him instead of putting on her best innocent face “Whatever might you mean?”

As Dig started down the stairs his voice fainted “I’m serious Felicity. Queens are bad news.” 

She was in her bed crying her eyes out the last time she heard that. Dig and her mom were fighting again. Donna refused to understand why her fiancé wouldn’t just leave Robert Queen alone.Earlier that day, Dig had turned himself in for stealing evidence from the Sara Lance case. Well, he hadn’t really. More like he sacrificed himself for Felicity. “We’re family” he had argued “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Felicity. It’ll be our secret.” You see, Dig used to borrow Felicity’s iPod when he went running. It was a thing between them.She’d download some music he’d never heard of but would like and leave it on his desk for him.That morning he didn’t even think about it when he borrowed a sleeping Felicity’s music box for some tunes to keep him awake on his usual 5k.He had just rounded the cul-de-sac when Robert Queen yelled into his ear “I will have your head for this!” That’s how Felicity learned not to leave downloaded copies of stolen evidence around.Being the noble, honest, and law-abiding citizen that Dig is, he took the missing interrogation tapes back to the sheriff’s office and “confessed” to the theft. That was the ammunition Moira Queen needed to get Diggle suspended.“Queens are bad news, Donna.Don’t you see that?” he pleaded.She didn’t. It was a week later when Donna up and disappeared. There was a note for Dig on the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry. Don’t look for me.” And a letter for Felicity which said practically the same thing mixed in with a few i-love-you’s and i’ll-miss-you’s but those really don’t mean a thing when you’re leaving your only daughter behind for fuck knows what. Yeah, what was that thing about people you love letting you down?That’s right.Sooner or later, they do.

Felicity checks her watch to see how much time she’s got until she has to be back in school for Ms. Michael’s yearbook session.She doesn’t have enough for a full sweep but she can at least check on the obvious if she hurries. She plugs in her laptop and starts running credit card searches.Her stomach growls so she checks the fridge hoping for an apple when she finds a chicken and mayo sandwich Dig must have left for her. He usually does this in case he’s out on a case and knows Felicity will be starving by the time she gets to the office having skipped lunch at school.There’s always a post-it on it that says something like “eat me” or “i’m yummy” but Moira must have really thrown him off his game today.By the time Felicity sits down and bites into her sandwich, her screen displays the full gamut of everything Robert Queen has purchased over the last 2 months with all 7 of his credit cards including the black double platinum no limit spending machine.Felicity searches for the usual items that scream incorrigible womanizer but nothing stands out.No in-room champagne bottles, no lace negligee or a diamond bracelet. Her next step is to hack into his calendar.Perhaps she’ll get lucky and he’ll have marked last Saturday night “i’m getting lucky.” She scrolls down to find a bunch of work related engagements but nothing unusual.Except tonight’s entry for 9pm is a little strange: “D@17E78” 

Mysteries bug Felicity.They need to be solved.This looks like an unsophisticated enough code, she can totally crack this. Her middle name is code cracker.It’s Meghan actually. She checks her phone keyboard to see what numbers @ and E might stand for but it’s still too short to be a cell phone or latitude and longitude. She checks the other way around but there’s no letter for 1 on a phone keyboard. She writes the thing backwards but 87E71@D doesn’t mean anything either. “Think Felicity, think” she gobbles up the last piece of her sandwich.That’s when she spots Dig’s business card in the corner of her eye.“John Diggle, Diggle Investigations, 79 West 69rd Street.”It’s an address! 17 East 78th Street.She quickly types it into Google and finds the location is Camelot Motel which not too far from where she is. Oh look, they even charge by the hour.If the shady photos online are accurate advertisement, it’s the perfect place for a billionaire to hide a tryst with his mistress, which may or may not go by “D”.She quickly scribbles down her findings on a post-it and drops it into her bag.Unfortunately for Felicity, the place seems like it’s from the 1800s so there’s nothing for her to hack.They take only cash for payment, they haven’t bothered with security cameras, there isn’t wi-fi even in the lobby. She’s gonna have to do this old school. OK she wasn’t born when private dicks had to survive without unparalleled help from digital surveillance, but she’s totally watched the Maltese Falcon. Stuff that dreams are made of.

 

**February 29th 2:17pm, yearbook meeting at Starling High**

“I don’t think that’s what the Lances or Principal Waller had in mind.” 

Ms. Michaels suggests with a reassuring hand on Felicity’s shoulder.Felicity is currently on her laptop zooming in on a photo of Sara with her arms stretched out giving the middle finger to whomever had been holding the camera. It must have been Oliver.Felicity remembers he was on this black and white photography kick during fall of sophomore year where he’d follow her and Sara around everywhere clicking a million miles a minute.Somewhere in the Queen’s attic there must be a bunch of blurry photos of her sticking out her tongue at him.

Ms. Michaels is right though. As usual. Yearbook tributes to the dead don’t usually include duck face selfies, videos mooning strangers or body shots captured on film forever.But they said to honor Sara’s life and Felicity can’t do that without showing the world how much Sara loved life.And lived it.Without any constraints or limitations. “I’m high on life, Felicity Smoak!” she would say with the hugest grin on her face “high on life!” A tribute to Sara Lance is not about grades, diplomas or varsity sports. Though she did have a mean right hook.

When Felicity hacked into Starling High’s attendance records to help out fellow student Shado cut school for an audition in Metropolis, she had no idea she’d be giving Waller leverage to blackmail her into building an online version of the yearbook.It was either that or suspension.Dig volunteered to take down Waller once and for all but Felicity believes in the devil-you-know theory. Not to mention she can build a website in her sleep.She just didn’t see this damn tribute coming so it feels a little like rubbing salt in all her open wounds.At least Shado got the part.She dropped out of school to tour the country as the lead in some musical.If Felicity remembers right, it’s called The Purgatory or something. 

Felicity agreed to the blackmail terms but she never agreed to put together a fake after-school special. She’d rather stab her eye out with the red pen she’s holding than dishonor Sara’s memory just so the Lances and the school can pretend to mourn, by their misguided definition, the perfect daughter, the perfect student. Sara was perfectly imperfect.No one who really knew her would have had it any other way.

“I think that’s exactly what Sara would have wanted.” Oliver addresses Ms. Michaels, gives Felicity a curt nod and plumps down to his seat behind her. Sometimes the bastard knows just what to say. That’s what makes him so frustrating Felicity thinks.You wanna strangle him one second and kiss him the next. Kiss him?What?

“Just tone down the teen angst Felicity. For me?” Ms. Michaels gives her a pleading look before she gets distracted by the commotion in the back. “All right, settle down back there. Helena, you’re supposed to work on the computer not watch some mindless reality show.”

Felicity usually ignores such classic Helena scenes in favor of putting in her headphones, but when instead of turning off the garbage and apologizing, Helena turns up the volume, she can’t help but overhear the news anchor.

“The warden’s press release states that the guard on duty found Henry Allen dead in his cell this morning. Cause of death is pending autopsy. Suspicious, in deed, Carrie. As you all remember Mr. Allen had confessed and was found guilty of first-degree murder. His victim, of course, was one Sara Lance, the 17 year old daughter of sheriff Quentin Lance. He was serving a sentence of life without parole. Henry Allen is survived by his only son Bartholomew Allen.Back to you, Carrie.”

Felicity doesn’t remember standing up, let alone walking over to watch the newscast. But there she is staring at the screen surrounded by a half a dozen eyeballs aimed right at her. Frozen limbs and a numb heart. Is this it? Is this how it ends?Is this how Sara gets justice?It doesn’t feel right. But then nothing ever felt right after she was gone. Come on Felicity, she chastizes herself. Killed. Not gone. Sara was killed.She can say it for fuck’s sake.

Henry Allen was arrested 2 weeks after Sara was killed. “Anonymous tip my ass” Felicity remembers Dig grumble to Donna. Allen was apparently a disgruntled ex-employee who had broken into the Queen mansion and hidden in the study waiting for his old boss. He confessed to being surprised by Sara and, in the dark of the night, mistaking her for his real target. Sara was shot once in the abdomen, the official story stated, by a bullet meant for Robert Queen.No one but Dig, and Felicity, even questioned why she was there to begin with.

She can’t dwell on it however as Oliver’s voice brings her back to the present. “You still think my dad did it?”

Felicity doesn’t know what to think anymore.She turns to find him standing right next to her with hands in his pockets and eyes trained on his shoes. His right foot traces a stain on the dirty carpet before he shakes his head and meets her eyes.“She was your best friend. My girlfriend. Can you let it go now?”

Two can play that game. “Can you?”

“Unbelievable! The house is burning, Smoak. Hell, the whole damn neighborhood is on fire!Yet you’re strolling around looking for fucking clues that don’t fucking exist!”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do, huh? What are you gonna do, Oliver? Are you gonna stand there and watch me burn?”

“God Smoak! You’re just...”

“Not here.” Ms. Michaels picks up Felicity and Oliver’s backpacks and leads them outside. “Take a minute, you two. Cool down.” She steps back towards the classroom but turns around again. “I get it. You both lost someone you loved. But you’re still here. Must you lose each other too?”

Lyla Michaels has a way with getting to the heart of the matter. Any matter really. No need beating around the bush. You see it, you call it.But the thing is, Felicity and Oliver have already lost each other.They used to be friends. It sure feels like a long time ago.

“Let’s go.” Felicity starts walking and when she doesn’t hear footsteps follow her she sends a warning without looking back “I’m getting really tired of your attitude Lucifer.”

Oliver catches up with Felicity as she opens the door to the girl’s locker room.“My day is complete. Felicity Smoak has accused me of evil.”

“Are you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass today?”

“Me?”

“Do you see any other entitled boneheads around?” Felicity drops her bag and crosses her arms over her chest.

Oliver throws his arms up in the air “Typical! You’re the one trying to put my father in jail…”

“I’ve done no such thing.” Felicity’s proud she’s keeping her cool as Oliver gets increasingly angry.

“…you’re the one who doesn’t give a shit what happens to me…”

Oh hell no, forget being cool, that just won’t do “ _You_ stopped talking to _me_!”

“…when I had no one…”

“You had Tommy! _I_ had no one!” Felicity deals in data, in facts, not made-up bullshit.This asshole keeps pissing her off with lies. 

“…and I’m the one with a problem?” shouts Oliver at the same time Felicity cries out “What is your problem?”

“Ugghh fuuuuck!” Oliver storms around and puts his fist through the dry wall behind him. 

Felicity jumps back and watches him shake the plaster off his hand as if he just swatted a mosquito and not punch a hole in the wall. He takes a deep breath that rolls down the muscles on his back and squares his shoulders. Felicity’s never been afraid of Oliver.No matter what happens, she knows he would never hurt her. Not physically.Lately, words are his sword and looks are his dagger.She’s not afraid of him now either. Maybe afraid _for_ him. Because the boy in front of her is so full of rage and hurt that she barely recognizes him anymore. He slowly turns around, takes a couple of steps closer and looks her straight in the eye with a blank expression.

“Did you dye your hair blond to look like Sara?”

How dare he? “Fuck you!” She slaps him hard across the left cheek. “Go to hell, Oliver” Felicity hisses as her hand prepares to slap him again, cause once is absolutely not enough, but he grabs her wrist mid-air. She struggles to free her hand, but damn him and his freaky reflexes and his powerful arms.

“I’m already there.”

For a split second Felicity can see right through him.Right through to his broken soul.And it’s so heartbreakingly beautiful.Then it’s gone.Poof.Just like that.Like he believes nobody’s gonna come and save him.All that remains is the storm that swirls dark in his eyes.His hand is a steel knife against the pulse point on her wrist.And he pushes on it pressing her whole body flat against the locker behind her. Before Felicity can find her footing, Oliver’s lips crash onto hers. 

And it’s brutal. 

He must be high on his hate and drunk on his anger.There’s no other explanation really. Not for the way his huge hands are palming her small face with both strength and caress at the same time. Not for the way his tongue is both mauling and dancing in her mouth. And certainly not for the way his heart seems to beat so fast and so loud that Felicity worries it might jump right out of his chest. How can she even feel that? Oh wait, he’s impossibly close. Like his entire body on hers kind of close. When the hell did that happen? And just wait a second, why is it not happening anymore?

Oliver must have finally caught on to the fact that she’s just been standing there. Eyes wide open. Unmoving. The whole time. So he takes a tiny step back, and as his hands tumble down her face to her neck, he whispers"I can't kiss you when you're thinking so loud."Felicity wonders when was the last time she shut off her brain and just _felt_.Hunger. Joy. Thirst. Passion. Madness. That’s right, how could she forget? Oliver made her feel all of that just now. And god, he felt good. 

She sees his right hand crawl back up her neck and over her jaw, real tentatively. Like he’s giving her time to stop him. Her eyes follow his thumb as it reaches her bottom lip and tugs it free of her teeth. That’s Felicity’s go-to I’m-so-screwed move. It doesn’t hurt that she can still taste him on her lip as she practically chews on it.Felicity cringes when she thinks of his minty fresh battling with her bitter espresso.Does he go around prepared to kiss the hell out of unsuspecting mouths all the time? Give a girl a heads up. Share a mint. Spare a toothbrush or something. His thumb ghosts down her chin and nudges her face up. “Eyes on me.”She obeys.

He breathes out “Felicity?” 

Are you with me? Will you let me? Do you want this? 

He’s asking for nothing and everything at once. And there’s only one plausible answer. 

Goodbye sanity.

She brings herself on her tip toes and pretty much lunges herself at him. Her hands pull his face down by the neck and _oh god_ his tongue is back to stroking the roof of her mouth. He pins her back against the locker and there’s something digging into her lower back which should be painful but Felicity can’t feel anything but Oliver smiling against her lips. Her hands slide down to his shoulders and grip them as tight as she can the second his teeth nibbles on her bottom lip.Who needs air when she can just breathe him?His thumbs graze her nipples immediately pebbling them and making Felicity shudder and arch her back to get closer “Oh god!” But his hands don’t linger where she wants them.They keep moving downwards feeling each soft angle of her body while his ridiculously talented tongue licks the side of her neck.He may have used his teeth there for a moment eliciting a low moan from Felicity. He hums against her skin “Fuck, Felicity. You’re so responsive.” Red sparks. An stoppable heat storm is whipping through her body.What was it about him watching her burn?

His right hand slips underneath her t-shirt to curl around her waist and his left index finger hooks around the belt loop on her shorts pulling her hips forward.She feels him panting so close to her ear before she feels his tongue suck hard on her earlobe and she whimpers in pleasure. Holy mother of all that’s digital what the hell is he doing to her? And since when do her ears control whether any blood reaches her legs?She’s pretty sure she’d be goo on the floor if he wasn’t holding her up by the sheer leaning of his entire body on hers. And man, is that all muscle? How can he not have any flab at all? 

“These shorts…” one heavy sloppy kiss right behind her ear “…have been driving me…” sharp pull on the belt loop of her shorts ”…crazy…” hard tug with his teeth on her earlobe “…all day.” 

Oh. 

Felicity feels every word, every lick and every tug right in between her legs.High five, Sailor Moon.

His right hand leaves her waist and grabs the back of her left knee hiking her leg up. Felicity’s foot hooks around and runs up his calf while his hand roughly treks up her thigh and find his home underneath the hem of her now all-time favorite shorts.

Oliver Queen’s hand is on her bare ass. 

And he’s squeezing. 

That’s gonna take some getting used to. But later. Cause her hand seems to get a life of its own all of a sudden and yeah there it is hijacking her brain controls and directing itself straight at his cock. And the god damn treacherous body part is stroking him hard over the flimsiest piece of cotton parading around as his pants. Let’s be honest, his fucking mouth is charging her swollen lips and his fucking hands are marking her skin, so her fucking traitor of a hand is the last to blame here.Pardon granted.Sweet Moses, he’s big. And hard. “I can feel you.” Add her mouth to the list of body parts she’s putting on the naughty list. First, she scratches her nails against his zipper, then pushes her palm flat against it. And he, honest to God, growls.The kind that causes her chest to vibrate right along with his.She smirks thinking _she_ did that.

“Felicity…shit.” With a slight bend to his knees, he thrusts his hips forward desperately searching for more friction and she swears he’s throbbing against her hand. “I..uh…I need…” His eyes are watching her hand, his forehead is leaning against hers, and he’s just panting. The big bad wolf is actually struggling to speak. 

Can someone just stop all the ringing in her ear?And what’s with all the chatter? She’s trying to focus here. No wait, ringing? Chatter? The haze disappears and Felicity remembers where she is and what she is doing.Not to mention with whom. She immediately pushes a confused Oliver back with both hands and hurries to the door. She picks up a wedge off the floor and sticks it under the door blocking anyone on the other side from coming in. Felicity places first a hand then her forehead on the door.And tells herself to just breathe. 10, 9, 8, 7…There’s a hard knock or two on the door but thankfully the potential intruders give up easily.So she just keeps breathing.Turning around to face Oliver seems impossible. What can she say?What should she do? Really, someone give her a fucking clue. The bell rings once more, the chatter dies down, and they’re alone in the silence again. Until Oliver breaks it this time.

“She was there for me.”

Felicity turns around to find him sitting on the floor leaning against a locker with arms crossed over bent knees.

“I took dad’s watch. Thea and I had bought it for his 40th.I took it. Didn’t want him to have it, you know? I just wanted to hurt him like...” he shakes his head like he’s trying to escape his own thoughts. “Sara…” his voice shatters. “She found it. Begged me to take it back before he figured it out.” It happens so fast but Felicity sees him wipe off a tear or two with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wouldn’t. So she did. That’s why she was there that night.”

Yeah, there’s a tear or two all right. 

“Oliver…” Felicity’s feet finally move forward.

“I killed her.”

“No!” she vehemently objects as she sits on the bench in front of him. “You can’t think like that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah? Then why do I feel so guilty?”

There’s plenty of guilt to go around. Felicity ought to know that by now. “Oliver…”

“Just forget it Smoak.” She tries to reach out to him but he stands up so quickly that all she touches is the heavy air.It takes him a couple of long steps to get to the door but before he can dislodge the wedge, Felicity stops him. “Wait!”

She grabs her backpack off the bench, unzips it and shuffles things around inside looking for something. She takes out a pink notepad, scribbles on it and holds it out for him to take.“Here.”

“Hall pass?Do I wanna know how you got your hands on these?”

Felicity shrugs “Magic.”

Oliver shoves the pass into his back pocket and smiles at her. “I’ve got your number now Smoak. Underneath that annoying know-it-all shell, there’s a slightly less annoying know-it-all dying to make me a mix tape.You’re a cupcake, Felicity Smoak.A unicorn.” He fucking winks at her before walking out the door.

For what feels like an eternity, Felicity watches the empty space where he used to stand. She plasters a hand on her chest to calm its persistent humming, no, jackhammering. When she can finally feel her legs, she turns to face her still flushed self in the mirror. 

“So, that happened.”

 

**February 29th 8:37pm, breaking into the safe at Diggle Investigations**

John Diggle is the smartest person Felicity Smoak knows. Street smart.Battle smart. Puzzle smart.Parent smart.He knows every one of Felicity’s tricks which makes life interesting and keeps her on her toes. It’s a two-way street though. Dig’s as open a book to Felicity as it gets.He’d refuse the thought until his dying breath however.So Felicity plays along.Like pretending she doesn’t know the combination to the safe in his office. It took Felicity all of two tries to figure it out.First was a random number generated by the code breaking algorithm she wrote.So it doesn’t count really.She tried it out of respect for her 12-year-old self who was over the moon for winning the first prize in science fair. The second was 06152014, the date Dig proposed to Donna.“You two changed my life” Dig told her once. “The day your mom said yes, the day you said yes…” he smiled “is the happiest I had ever been.”Felicity’s dead certain what makes you a parent has less than zero to do with biology. And everything to do with selfless commitment to tie your fate to another, to care and protect as if it’s your own life, to love endlessly, and never quit.Whomever’s genes gave her these eyes that don’t work without glasses can’t be farther from being a parent.Dig?It doesn’t get any closer.

“I need to remember contacts this time.” 

Felicity learned the perils of wearing glasses over balaclavas the first time she had to hold them up while trying to hide behind a tree.No access to ears makes it a little difficult for glasses to hold themselves up. One should not sacrifice the use of hands for eyesight. Contacts it is. Just as soon as she gets the camera from the safe.Once she cracked the code to Dig’s safe, the mystery was solved and Felicity never felt the need to open it again. But she looked everywhere for that camera, even thought Dig may have taken it with him.Then it dawned on her.He must have hid the tools of her trade just so she can’t follow up on the Robert Queen case.She kneels down by the safe and punches in the code.

“I’m offended, Dig. You really think I can’t get into this thing?”

Yep, there it is right next to the long distance zoom lens and right on top of _oh_ …

The Sara Lance murder file. 

Felicity’s read the digital version she borrowed from the SCPD database like a million times so she’s memorized it word for word. _Time of death between 10.30pm and midnight. Cause of death medium range gun shot wound to the abdomen.Found by Queen housekeeper Raisa Knyazev in Robert Queen’s study._ But she has never actually seen the paper file.Dig was supposed to lay everything to rest. “I’m done, Felicity” he told her a couple of weeks after Donna had left.“It’s cost us too much. You’re the only thing that matters now.”That whole parents never quit thing? Fucking double-edged sword. 

It’s not a conscious decision on her part to reach for the file. Curiosity is Felicity’s second nature.But this is more instinct. Like something has just tied her stomach in knots which all covet the familiar torture hidden in that file.

Felicity slides down to the floor and leans her back against the wall.She runs her fingertips across the cover before she opens the file.Photos of the crime scene are the first to hit her. So much blood.Felicity’s always known she’d be a terrible doctor. It’s not the sight of blood that bothers her.It’s that regardless of overexposure she can never get desensitized to pain.It still hurts as much as the first time the photos popped up on her computer screen months ago. She flips them around and piles them up to drop in the back of the file.That’s when she sees Dig’s handwriting on the back of one _“Missing quiver. No carpet.”_ Before she can make sense of it, she’s distracted by the coroner’s report.Wait, that’s not right. _Time of death between 9.30pm and 11.00pm.Cause of death blood loss due to piercing. Victim was stabbed with object with sharp angles.Murder weapon undetermined._ There’s a note scribbled in the same blue ink from back of the photo this time next to the drawing of the wound. 

As the file falls off her hands, Felicity whispers out Dig’s note _“Arrow?”_

Two accounts of the same night could not be more different.Holy fucking cover up. 

This must be why Dig was consumed with Sara’s case even after the confessed murderer was in jail for life.He must have somehow gotten his hands on the real coroner’s report. He knew the official story was just that.A story.No one fights harder and longer for the truth than John Diggle.The fact that he still has the file tells Felicity he must still be fighting.But why keep this from her?

Felicity doesn’t get a chance to theorize an answer when her phone alarm chirps reminding her that she’s supposed to be waiting for Robert Queen at Camelot Motel in 10 minutes.It’s balaclava and contacts time. 

Coop’s still at Eddie’s garage and since the motel is only nine blocks away, Felicity decides to walk.The idea is to clear her head but she’s never been one to be at peace with her thoughts which always end up taking her on multiple tangents.She likes to claim it’s organized chaos. “What’s so organized about it, Felicity?” Dig had countered once. “I can’t follow you. Can you follow you?” She’d like to say yes, but she never wants to lie to Dig. So she shrugged “It’s not about how you get there Dig, it’s about where I end up taking you. I promise the detours will be worth it.”So, where is she taking herself now exactly?She’s supposed to focus on catching Robert Queen in the act. _Ew._ Well, not in the act but thereabout it preferably.But all she can think about is Sara and the curious case of the two reports.“I’ve got a secret” Sara had told Felicity about a week before she was murdered. “It’s a good one.” Felicity never got her to reveal what it was. Sara kept a lot of secrets.Many small - _spice of life_ as she used to call them. And a few big ones like this one Felicity suspects she took to her grave. Perhaps if Felicity had insisted more, got her to open up, she would have a clue now as to who’s trying to cover up how she was murdered.And why?Who’s the real culprit?Is it really Henry Allen or could Robert Queen have done it like Dig suspected all along? And the more pressing matter of what the fuck is Felicity supposed to do now?Confront Dig?Find the coroner? Dig up Sara’s body? Yeah, she’s really not the grave robber kind. Don’t misunderstand her, she’s got the leg and arm muscles required once she puts her back into it, but sneaking in under the disguise of the dark night to desecrate the resting place of a loved one is not her cup of tea.Dig would refuse to bail her out if she gets caught anyway.Probably disown her while he’s at it.She doesn’t even know anyone who’d drive the get-away car.Maybe Oliver? 

Oliver.

There’s another million tangents if she ever thought of any. 

Felicity remembers the day she met Oliver. Like it was yesterday. 

When Felicity was younger, the nucleus Smoak family of two moved from place to place on, what seemed to her, Donna’s whim.There was never a legitimate excuse: the weather in New Orleans was too humid, the coffee in Kansas tasted like, excuse Donna’s French, shit, and you couldn’t find a good pair of heels to save your life in Austin.They were never at one place long enough for Felicity to have friends to really open up to or collect possessions to care about.Except for her babies.Their last stop before Starling was the outskirts of Las Vegas.And finally they had stayed long enough for Felicity to set up a kick-ass corner for all her babies.She should have learned by then it wouldn’t have lasted.So when the worst movers in the universe dropped the box damaging her most prized possessions, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I hate her!”

Donna came running when she heard her daughter's cry.“Sweetie, what happened?” 

“I hate you!I hate your face!I hate your hair!I hate your heels!And most of all I hate the way you’re looking at me right now!” Felicity pushed up her glasses and balled up her hands into fists.

Having spotted the broken monitor and the cracked laptop, Donna’s face was all full of concern.Felicity’s babies were her best friends.Her refuge in this crazy world. Her safe place. 

“What was wrong with Vegas, huh?Why did we have to move, mom?Why did we have to come to this God forsaken place?It doesn’t get any drier than the desert.God, it’s the capital of heels!And I know first hand the coffee was decent!”

An unfamiliar voice interrupted Felicity’s rant.“My coffee shop is in a bad neighbourhood.” 

“What!?!”

If you were having a shouting match with your mother in the middle of the street, you really had no control over which random stranger got to throw unwelcome comments your way. Felicity harshly turned to face the source of the irritatingly cheery voice determined to give him her best mind-your-own-business attitude, but whatever she was prepared to say got stuck in her throat the second she saw him.He was beautiful.Not handsome.Beautiful.Like Robert Redford in The Way We Were kind of beautiful.She was barely 15, give her raging hormones a break for Tesla’s sake. And the beautiful boy was just standing there holding her in spotlight for what seemed like a forever moment.Was it legal to be looked at like that? Had they finally arrived at the part of the movie where she was supposed to tell Hubbell his girl was lovely?She really had to stop letting Donna pick what to watch on movie nights.

“Sorry.” He finally broke the silence. “Didn’t mean to butt in. What I meant to say is it’s not so bad here. Starling City? We have decent coffee here too.”

Coffee?What coffee?Felicity racked her brain wondering why the beautiful boy was rambling on about coffee.And why was he shifting on his feet and rubbing his thumb against his index finger?Was he nervous?Why was he nervous?No one got nervous talking to Felicity Smoak.Well, no one that beautiful.She really had to stop thinking about his beauty.

“I could buy you a cup. So, you know, you can decide the level of local caffeine acceptability yourself.”Felicity didn’t get a chance to blurt out her immediate _yes, please_ as Hubbell turned to Donna and added “You too, of course, Mrs…?”

“Smoak. _Miss_ Smoak.” Felicity rolled her eyes as her mom batted her eyelashes at yet another distraction of the male variety.This one couldn’t be that much older than her, geez call him jailbait Hubbell.And there he went blushing at Donna’s obvious flirting.“But my coffee shop’s in a bad neighbourhood so…” 

Like a moth to a flame, Felicity thought, worked every time.What was it that Donna had that Felicity lacked?The long blond hair, the skin tight dress, the blinding confidence? Too bad you couldn’t pick which parts of your parents you got in the gene lottery.Felicity pushed her glasses up yet again and looked down at her panda flats.Nope, you got what you got and you turned it into gold yourself.She straightened her spine and looked at the seemingly-coffee-addict-creepily-into-older-women-weirdo in the eye.

“Are you retarded or something?”

“Felicity!” Donna Smoak didn’t raise a rude child. Yes, she raised one that was too angry to control her words at that moment so Donna did what a good mother would do and stepped in with a wide grin.“What’s your name, boy?”

“Oliver Queen. My name is Oliver Queen.” He held out his hand which Donna took enthusiastically, then he turned to Felicity.

“Felicity Smoak?”

“No, just…” Felicity was justly outraged for fuck’s sake and no random cougar hunter, no matter how beautiful, was going to steal her thunder. “Don’t change the subject.”

Felicity swore she heard Donna giggle in the background as Oliver leaned in and winked at her “But you’re my favourite subject.” 

She highly doubted that as Felicity was neither sweet nor submissive, Mr. Queen.

“My name is Oliver. Mr. Queen is my father.” Oliver said with the most authoritative tone he had used thus far.

Yeah, to hell with her overactive mouth and stupid, stupid brain for its inability to control when it opened and closed.She said what she said.Time to stop narrowing her eyes and scrunching up her nose and put her focus squarely back on Donna again “My babies, mom!”

All of a sudden Felicity saw the glint that appeared in her mother’s eyes.Donna reached for her arms and slid her palms down to capture her hands.She smiled softly while she asked “Felicity, do you know what day is today?”

“Uh…Wednesday?”

“No honey.” Donna grabbed her wallet out of her purse and handed Felicity what was infamously dubbed as the family emergency credit card. “It’s Smoaksgiving day.”

“Mom, we can’t.” Felicity tried to give her back the credit card.

Donna shook her head sharply and calmly placed her hand over her daughter’s. “Oh yes, we can. On Smoaksgiving, we can do whatever we want. And this is what you want.”

Money was never in abundance in the Smoak household.Maids, nannies, housekeepers, drivers, bodyguards…Felicity did not grow up with any of those.She didn’t even meet one until her first day at the Queen Mansion when Raisa opened the door with a warm “You must be Miss Felicity!” She didn’t need one either. Donna used to say “I don’t have to be a Rockefeller to take care of you baby girl.” And she was right, Felicity never lacked for anything.Well, she never asked for more than what was absolutely necessary to begin with.Happy child, happy mom.Over the years, there were a few exceptions to the rule.The purple shoes Felicity couldn’t take her eyes off of or the angled frames that fit her face perfectly or space camp that she magically got accepted to despite not applying due to its cost.Donna had labeled it _The Smoaksgiving._ One day each year, they got to splurge on something they didn’t need.In fact, the rule was, and it was the only rule, you couldn’t get something you needed.Just something you really wanted. “We should copyright it!” Donna would say every year.The Smoaksgiving quickly became Felicity’s favorite holiday.

“I think I saw an electronics store up the road.” Donna looked over to the horizon as Felicity smiled at her in awe. Was it some unwritten rule that moms knew exactly how to bring the sunshine out on a rainy day? Come to think of it, it was probably written somewhere like the Rosetta Stone or something.Felicity used to think it was definitely embedded in Donna Smoak’s code of parenthood.But codes can be fickle little creatures. 

Oliver caught her off guard yet again “I can take you.”

“Now you're making me mad.” Felicity internally cringed at her response.It’s like, for whatever reason, she was incapable of being the decent person her mom raised her to be around him. 

“Felicity!Let the nice boy take you. You don’t know your way around town well enough yet.”

Honestly Felicity’s joy over the prospect of brand new shiny hardware trumped her inexplicable annoyance with Oliver so she decided this was a battle she didn’t care losing.“Fine.”

**** Felicity Smoak’s real good at filling a silence.Too bad most of it takes place in her head.Her mind is a wonder really.Certified Mensa genius, but that’s not the kind of wonder she’s talking about.In quiet moments, it’s not facts, equations, theories, and all around general knowledge that swim around in that exceptional brain of hers.It’s the crippling fears.The enchanting dreams.The shackling insecurities.The freeing discoveries.It’s the total breakdown of all inhibitions that keep her from voicing out loud whatever she feels.So yeah, she’s a real Johnny Carson in the silence. But at that moment, walking side by side up her new street with a beautiful boy who confounded her, even Felicity couldn’t find a single thing to fill the silence.Outside or within.Except, God was he tall or was she too short?She should probably start wearing heels. Everyone’s brain is a little silly sometimes.

**** “It’s ok, Felicity.” 

She slowly turned to face him but he wasn’t looking at her.His hands were in his pockets and his focus was on the road ahead.Felicity wondered for a second whether he might just dodge the hell out of there.Instead he just stated with the kind of confidence that comes with finally solving some insolvable quadratic equation.“In Starling, you can be a new girl.”

**** Talk about flabbergasted. “And what pray tell is wrong with the old me?”

**** “Besides being rude, uptight, and generally unpleasant to be around, you mean?”

**** “Yeah well your behaviour hasn’t been anything to write home about either. What with all the sneaking up on people and meddling where you don’t belong.Don’t try so hard next time.”

Next time?What next time?As Felicity wondered why she kept digging a deeper hole every time she opened her mouth, she realized Oliver was no longer next to her.She spun around to find him standing still a couple of steps behind her.“Oliver?”

“There’s a million things I haven’t tried, Smoak.Just you wait.”

That must have been what being paralyzed felt like. Feet of cement, legs of jello.As far as the 15 year old Felicity Smoak was concerned, the male species didn’t stay.Her father didn’t.Well, she never met the man but that in and of itself is proof he didn’t stick around.The other men in Donna’s life? Had she mentioned how it really wasn’t the weather in New Orleans or the coffee in Kansas that made Donna pack their bags?Behind every frequently moving woman was a man who deserted her at first chance he got.Then there was Oliver.Granted they had just met.But she’d been nothing but a miserable bitch to him. Given him not one but countless reasons to take a hike. Yet, here he was.Refusing to go.Telling her he would try.Again.A million times if that was what it took.Oliver would later refer to the moment the corner of her lips curled up ever so slightly as his c _heckmate moment._

**** “So Smoaksgiving, huh?Just who is giving away Smoaks and where exactly do I get me one?”

He started walking again and picked up the pace quickly.As he passed by a still frozen yet quickly defrosting Felicity, he playfully bumped her shoulder with his. 

“Fresh out of Smoaks.No Smoaks for you.”

That was the first genuine laugh Felicity heard from Oliver.The kind that stems from deep inside you and knocks you over if you’re not careful.Pure gold.She’d deny it to the ends of the earth that Oliver laughing like that is contagious.Cures depression, re-invents endorphins kind of contagious.But you can’t fight with facts. 

Oliver stayed with Felicity the full three hours it took for her to get lost in her tech paradise at Best Buy.He not only walked her back home but also insisted on carrying all her boxes.“You’re not fooling me with this whole gentleman thing.” Felicity shrugged but boy was she hoping she was hiding how far down the rabbit hole she already was after just few hours spent in his company.They were standing outside of the new Smoak residence with gazes glued together and a content smile on both their faces when a whirlwind of a blonde ball of energy jumped up in front of them.

“There you are!I’ve been calling you for hours Ollie. Why didn’t you pick up? When I saw your car still parked out front…”

“I didn’t hear the ringer.Sorry, I was just caught up helping Felicity.She just moved in across the street from you guys.”

That’s when the blonde hurricane finally acknowledged Felicity’s presence.“Oh hi!Where are my manners?Gone wherever Ollie’s ringer went apparently.”She grinned as wide as they came and held out a welcoming hand.“I’m Sara.Sara Lance.”

“Felicity.Smoak.”Felicity couldn’t help but grin back at this girl whose pores life oozed out of.

“Nice to meet you, Felicity.Nice shoes. I love pandas!”Sara’s arm went around Felicity’s shoulders and she gripped her tight as she started walking.No, more like hopping.

“Oh boyfriend?Are you coming?”She sang behind at Oliver.“Felicity and I will walk you to your car.”

_Boyfriend_.Well that made sense.Because she and Oliver hadn’t really.But Sara and Oliver.Yeah, that worked.What she thought may have been possibly-in-a-million-years-once-in-a-blue-moon Oliver flirting was apparently just him being a friendly to his very attractive, very likeable, very not-Felicity girlfriend’s neighbor.As if Felicity didn’t know Hubbells always got the lovely girls.And the ever so cruel universe was back turning on its regularly-programmed axis again.

“Can’t you feel it, Felicity?Our fates are intertwined. Of all the gin joints, you think it’s coincidence you moved to my turf?”Was she about to say this was going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship?Yeah no more Bogart at movie night either.Donna really did have a thing for tragic romances, didn’t she?

And that’s how Felicity met Sara.Damn that regularly-programmed axis, the world was never the same again.

The blinking neon lights announcing she’s arrived at her destination, Camelot Motel, brings Felicity out of her thoughts.Her watch reads 9:17pm so she’s a bit late but a quick scan of the motel parking lot tells her Robert Queen’s running even later.She spots a cluster of bushes across the street that would give her enough of a camouflage and a decent line of sight to take photos from.Heading for her hiding place, she slips the balaclava over her head and straps the camera around her neck.Locked and loaded.

You know the rest.Well, not everything.Let’s just fast forward to the good part, shall we?

 

**February 29th 10:07pm, kneeling down in the mud with the bane of her existence Oliver Queen**

**** “Give me one good reason.”Felicity meets Oliver’s dare.“Because I’m asking you to.”

Felicity isn’t entirely convinced it’s good enough of a reason.Not for this Oliver.Her Oliver, well, not hers, just the old Oliver, would accept it.He wouldn’t have even asked for a reason really.But this Oliver?He’s a wildcard.Just when you think you’ve figured out his asshat of a self, he goes and kisses the life out of you.It makes him unpredictable.And the only thing that makes Felicity more nervous in a bind than the unreliable is the unpredictable. It’s a good thing Oliver doesn’t have any time to figure out what he wants to do as Robert Queen knocks on Room 418 and the door swiftly opens.

“Laurel?”

Felicity isn’t sure if it was her or Oliver who say the name out loud.It may have been both of them.She’s in such a complete shock that she’s about to miss her shot at a hefty paycheck.Her finger’s still on the shutter release but she can’t get herself to press down on it. She watches Robert Queen enter the motel room as her last chance for the money shot disappears behind the door Laurel closes hastily. 

The mysterious D stands for Dinah?But why?Why is Dinah Laurel Lance meeting with Mr. Queen? In secret. In some seedy motel.Felicity didn’t even know Laurel was back in Starling.It just doesn’t make sense unless…

“Smoak?”Oliver brings her out of her haze. ”What are you doing here exactly?”

“Your mom.” Fuck.She really didn’t mean to say that.Backpedal like your life depends on it Felicity.

“I mean my mom.”

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

“I thought your father was meeting my mother.”

“What? Why would you think that?”

“Your mother.”Fuck her!Why the hell can’t she just keep a story together?She even almost had him before she pretty much threw the paddle off the boat.Nevermind the life vest. Jump in Felicity, see if you sink or swim.

“Your mother hired Dig today.She wanted proof. Photos of your father…”

“…cheating.”He was always good at finishing her sentences. 

And she was always bad at apologies. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.It’s nothing new.The fact that she’d want to act on it now…that’s new.”

“I am sorry, Oliver.No matter what he does, he still is your father. It can’t be easy for you.”

He accepts her apology with a short nod before his eyes turn quizzical.“What are you gonna to do?Are you gonna tell mom about Laurel?”

Will she?Can she?It’s not just some faceless, nameless bimbo anymore.Laurel and Felicity were never friends in the traditional sense of the word.When Sara was alive, despite being a year older, Laurel seemed like she couldn’t have been more distant.And when Sara died, Laurel moved to Central City to live with her mother.Felicity can probably count on the fingers of one hand the times Laurel said anything other than _hi_ or _bye_ to her.But, this is not about Laurel.It’s about Sara.She would be devastated if the story came out.And Felicity can’t be the cause of anything that causes pain to Sara, dead or alive. 

“No.I can’t.It just can’t be me.”

Oliver’s gaze turns to the motel room again.“Do you think they are…”

Having an affair?His father and his dead girlfriend’s big sister.Yeah. Felicity’s captured too many affairs on film to not know.

“I don’t know.”

For whatever reason she wants to spare him the hurt.Leave a sliver of ambiguity, benefit of the doubt, that maybe, just maybe, his father isn’t the unfaithful bastard they both know he is.Perhaps for a day or two life remains a little less messed up than it really is.If she can give him that, she can live with the pretend-not-knowing.The way Oliver looks at her, full of understanding and appreciation, makes it all worth the white lie.He gets up off his knees, looks at the mud stains on his pants but decides there’s no point in trying to brush them off.“Let’s get out of here.”He holds out a hand for her to take and yeah there goes her devil of a so-called body part again.When the fuck did his skin become a Felicity magnet?Even she has to admit it feels good.Her hand in his.Fits. Just right.

“Where did you park Coop?”

“Still at the shop.I walked here.”

“Come on.”He pulls on her hand. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You didn’t drive either?”

“Oh I did. On the Ducati. I know better than to try to get you to ride it, Smoak.”

The first thing Oliver did when his father gifted him the Ducati for his 17th birthday was to ride it over to the Smoaks.He couldn’t wait to show it to Felicity who he knew hated his Hummer with the passion of a thousand suns.“Environment killer” she used to call his car. “I love trees, heck, I can’t live without clean air. I won’t be stepping into that environment killer.Ever.”So when she shot down his enthusiasm over the Ducati with a “I hope you don’t expect me to ride that death trap Oliver” he knew he was just never going to win with her when it came to modes of transportation. “Yeah well at least I’m not driving a dwarf car” was the only retort he could come up with which immediately got Felicity defensive. “Hey, watch what you say. Coop’s sensitive.” It wasn’t like Oliver’s Gulliverian build could fit into her car which was clearly made for Lilliputians. 

It is good thing, Felicity thinks, that Oliver doesn’t realize that she is utterly and painfully disappointed.You couldn’t bribe her with a dinner with Elon Musk to get her to publicly admit she desperately wanted to ride on the Ducati.But if you could whip up a chance encounter where she was without means to get from point A to B, far from home and Oliver magically happened to be there - holding her hand which is nice but so not the point - with only his bike, she wouldn’t say no.Sure she’d make a fuss over it to make sure her objections were publicly recorded, but inside, deep in her stomach, a thousand butterflies would take flight.At this particular point in time, all she can think about is how she craves the wind prickling her face as Oliver manoeuvres the bike around the curling streets of the Glades.She would have Oliver between her wobbly thighs and her hands would be around his waist holding tight onto his abs.She’d probably curse the helmets - oh yes, if Felicity’s riding that death trap, you bet your ass she’d be wearing a helmet.But if she weren’t such a responsible almost-adult, her helmetless cheek could rest in between his shoulder blades.Or her chin on the delicate spot where his long neck meets his collarbone.Maybe her nose would nuzzle the short hairs on the back of his neck and inhale that Oliver scent. Her entire body shivers. It can’t be helped really.Get a fucking grip Felicity.One out of the blue, never to be repeated, locker room make out session and she’s acting like a teenage groupie high on hormones. 

“Are you cold?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re shivering.”Oliver takes off his forest green leather jacket and places it over her shoulders.“Here.”

Felicity doesn’t get a chance to linger on the fact that she’s now surrounded by that Oliver scent her treacherous teenage hormones were craving. Because she’s absolutely transfixed by the playfulness on his face as his hands reach behind her and pull her ponytail out of the jacket.His left hand lingers to play with her ponytail while right hand brushes a loose strand of hair off her face and tucks it behind her ear.She can tell the moment he realizes what he’s doing.His hands freeze and his eyes lose their warmth.The last thing either of them need is the air to get even more awkward between them so Felicity smiles. “And they say chivalry’s dead.”His hands slide down to the camera strap still on her neck.He pulls it up over her head and puts it over his own neck.“I don’t want you to blame me if you catch a cold.”His hands are back on her again this time to zip up his jacket. “There. Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah.”Who can blame her if she sounds a bit wrecked right now?

He puts his hands in his pockets before he starts walking again.They’re back to playing the silence game for a few minutes and since they’re about 15 blocks away from home, Felicity tries to think of safe topics to dissolve the tension.Let’s see.She probably shouldn’t bring up Tommy.It’s not politically correct to ask the guy whose tongue was down her throat mere hours ago how his best friend who unceremoniously dumped the owner of said throat is doing. Nope, cross Tommy Merlyn off the safe topics list. She also probably shouldn’t bring up his family.She sure doesn’t want to remind him of the mother who’s after cheating husband snapshots or the said cheating husband who may or may not be a murderer.Yeah, nope.She really shouldn’t bring up Sara either.Except damn him, Oliver does.Knock her out on her ass while he’s at it, why doesn’t he?

“I loved Sara.”

How do you respond to something like that?“I know.She loved you too.”

Oliver seems to believe it even less than Felicity does.He shakes his head and smiles bitterly without breaking his gaze at the horizon.“Sara loved…” seems like he’s searching for the right way to put it, perhaps without offending her. “…being loved.”

And it just makes her feel sorry for him.He sounds so vulnerable yet so resigned to how things were. When Felicity first met Sara and saw the two of them together, she thought they were a perfect match.Then she got to know Sara.Really got to know her.And observed the couple together.She always thought there was love there.Genuine love.Just not the ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other kind of love.Sara felt everything and everyone.She lived high on the peaks.She just wasn’t the type to ever stick around for the troughs.Felicity had suspected Oliver knew it.It was never about him.It was always about her.Sara was the sun and they all revolved around her.If you got too close, she burned you.And if you ever strayed too far, a dark and cold fate welcomed you.You take out the sun and all the little rocks are thrown off their orbit.But Felicity thinks someone ought to remind him the sun isn’t the only star in town. 

“Oliver…”

“No it’s OK.”Perhaps Oliver already knows there’s north of one hundred billion stars in the Milky Way.And one hundred billion more galaxies beyond that.By conservative estimates.

“Makes it OK to move on now.”

Good.Felicity used to think Oliver deserved better than how Sara treated him, that he would have gotten fed up with the push and pull - the gravity of Sara.But he never did.That’s how loyal Oliver was.But now, he is free.To just be.Then he looks at her.There’s a kind of defenseless hope in his eyes that makes Felicity stumble.Wait, he can’t possibly mean move on as in move on _with her_ , can he?No way. 

“What I said earlier…about your hair. I’m sorry.”

Felicity shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not. I am sorry. You just have a way of getting under my skin…”

“You were right. Well not exactly. I didn’t dye my hair because Sara was blond. I did it because I wanted to change.Just didn’t want to be me anymore.” 

After Donna left, it was painful for Felicity to look herself in the mirror.Any reflection really.All she saw was someone everyone left behind.Her father, Tommy, Sara, Donna…there had to be something so wrong about her that everyone abandoned her, right?Her solution was to just not be Felicity anymore.Be someone else.Something else.She bought the boxed hair dye that day, cut her hair herself in the bathroom before applying the dye.Turns out, it was foolish.Nothing changed.Blond or brunette, she was still alone.

“Who knew yellow hues come just as fucked up as brown ones?”

“You’re not fucked up, Felicity.You’re just…you.Smart, passionate, beautiful.”Oliver inhales deeply as if searching for the strength to carry on. “You’re one of a kind.”

Just what the fuck is his deal today?Why does he say these things that make her want to grab him by the shoulders and climb him like the sweet-talker, sex-on-a-stick tree he is.And why does he look at her with so much hope and expectation that she might just get crushed under the weight of it all?It was better when he looked at her with contempt.It was safer when everything he said pissed her off.If no one is going to rewind the fucking day and reset life as she knows it, Felicity’s going to find a way to save herself. 

“How did you know where I was?”

Oh good.Change the fucking bone crushingly heavy subject, Felicity.

“My pocket.”Oliver motions with his head to the jacket Felicity’s wearing. She feels a crumpled piece of paper inside his right pocket and takes it out.

“You dropped it. Earlier…in the locker room, when we…when you gave me the hall pass.”

It’s the post-it from Dig’s office.She had written where Robert Queen would be that night on it. 

_Dark Archer_  
_Camelot Motel  
_ _9pm_

“I knew it was dad when I saw you wrote Dark Archer.” 

It was Felicity who coined the term but it was Oliver who took a liking to it.The first time Felicity was at the Queen Mansion, she had been so nervous that she showed up a half hour earlier than planned.Oliver gave her a tour of the place while they waited for Sara and Tommy to show up for movie night.If you had asked Felicity what her favourite spot was, she would have said Robert Queen’s study.The floor to ceiling library full of first edition books was what sold it to her at first sight.She could have ditched the movie and her friends and stayed happily lost amongst the books all night.Until she saw the archery display on the wall.“Whose pointy things are those?” she asked Oliver.“Some kind of dark archer?”Oliver was amused.Exclaiming “You _are_ a genius, Felicity Smoak!” he promptly adopted it as his favourite nickname for his father.That was then, though.Today, if you ask Felicity to pick one spot, one spot in the entire universe, to erase from existence, it would be Robert Queen’s study. 

Then it dawns on her.

_Missing quiver._  
_Victim was stabbed with object with sharp angles.  
Arrow?_

Fuck. 

This is why Dig went after Robert Queen.He suspected the Dark Archer was the killer and his arrow was the murder weapon which was conveniently missing from the culprit’s study.How could Felicity have missed this? 

She faintly notices Oliver talking but her mind is too clouded at the moment to pay any attention to him until she hears…

“I thought if I could just pull the arrow out…God, Felicity, there was so much blood everywhere.The carpet was soaked.”

Wait, what?Is Oliver talking about pulling the arrow out of Sara?Felicity can’t believe Dig has been right all along.And the proof has been within their grasp the whole time…Oliver knows the truth.

“I was so drunk that night.I was so pissed at Sara for taking the watch.” 

Oliver was there that night.He can come forward.Felicity will make him come forward and tell the truth.No more cover ups.Sara deserves justice.And Felicity will make sure she gets it if it’s the last thing she does.Robert Queen will pay for what he’s done. 

“It’s all so hazy.I don’t even remember half of what I did that night.”

Felicity freezes. 

He was drunk.  
He was pissed at Sara.  
He doesn’t remember much.  
He was the one to pull the arrow out.

Oh God, what if he was the one to stab her with it?

Did Oliver kill Sara?

“Felicity?”

She can hear Oliver call for her but all she can do is take a step back.She wants to run really. But where does she go?She looks up and sees they’re almost at her apartment complex.Home.Dig. He’ll help her figure this out.He’s good at solving puzzles. 

“Felicity, are you OK?” 

No she’s not.But she will be.Just as soon as she gets home to Dig.Fuck, Dig’s not home tonight.

“Felicity!”

Wait, that’s not Oliver.Felicity sees someone running towards her trying to grab her attention.

“Felicity!Hey!Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Barry?”

Before Henry Allen was arrested for Sara’s murder, Felicity and his son Barry were friends.Well, more like friendly acquaintances who shared a love for science and a lunch table now and then.After his father’s conviction, Barry moved to Central City to stay with a family friend.He didn’t say goodbye.Not that Felicity expected him to.He may be the last person she thought she’d run into today but in light of her recent suspicions, Felicity’s glad someone, anyone, showed up so she doesn’t have to be alone with Oliver. 

Barry spots Oliver and promptly introduces himself.“Hi, I’m Barry.Barry Allen.”

Oliver doesn’t make a move to take Barry’s extended hand.“I know who you are. What I don’t know is what you could possibly be doing here.”

Felicity needs him not to be an ass right now.“Oliver, shut up.”

“I need your help Felicity.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My father didn’t do it.There must have been someone else there that night.”

Yeah, Oliver.Way to sprint right to the point, Barry.Bullseye.

“I need you to help me clear my father’s name.”

“That’s enough of your lies. You need to leave Felicity alone.”Oliver gets increasingly agitated but Barry’s sole focus is on Felicity.

“Please just listen to me OK?I have proof.”

Yeah, he’s standing right in front of you.Fuck.Felicity chastizes herself.Oliver could not have killed Sara.Could he?No.Just, no.

“Barry, slow down.”But he doesn’t.

“I was contacted by Mars & Echolls this morning.A law firm in Gotham.They informed me that dad left me everything in his will.Including a two million dollar trust fund!Felicity, we were broke.Dad doesn’t have a dollar to his name leave aside two million of them!”

Two million dollars?Moira Queen’s two million dollars?The money Felicity tracked to Quentin Lance?She thought it was to buy the election results but maybe it was to buy protection.What the fuck is happening? Is Sara’s father in on the cover up of his own daughter’s murder?And just who exactly is Moira Queen buying protection for?Her husband or her son?And can the earth open up and swallow Felicity whole right this minute please?

“I know my dad couldn’t have done this. I know it.You need to help me find out where the money came from.Please Felicity.Will you help me?”

Felicity used to think she knew who killed her best friend. Now she’s not sure of anything. But she promises herself she will find out what really happened and she will bring Sara’s killer to justice. Whoever it is.

Is that mushy?Well, you know what they say: Felicity Smoak, she's a cupcake.

**Author's Note:**

> Who do you think killed Sara?
> 
> Come say hi to me on twitter @BackhandedComps - I'm happy to talk Arrow and Veronica Mars all day.


End file.
